


Coffeepocalypse

by Asrael_Valtiri



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And of course coffee, Arguing, Cussing, Drinking, Fighting, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Opposites Attract, f bombs all over the place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-10 02:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20520347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asrael_Valtiri/pseuds/Asrael_Valtiri
Summary: Written for Kylux xoxo Summerfest 2019: Summer Job (Lips/Credit/Work) but I took too long and didn't get it posted in time. Oh well it is still technically summer.Hux and Ren are both managers at the Outer Rim Coffeehouse and they get along great and they never fight about stupid things like who steams the milk better... Yeah right!





	Coffeepocalypse

Hux sat down with a cup of green tea and his brand new used copy of Andre Gide’s The Immoralist. He put his bare feet up on the couch. Millicent curled up on the back of the cushion behind him in a contented little loaf. That particular cushion was her favorite, which meant it was covered in cat hair, which meant that Hux felt the compulsion to grab the Dirt Devil and immediately vacuum it. 

But he did not. 

He took a deep breath, relaxed, and opened his book, cat hair be damned. It was a warm summer afternoon, and his breezy, shady apartment felt like the perfect place to relax for the evening.

And then his phone, which he had placed face down on the coffee table, began to vibrate insistently. 

Against his better judgement, he picked it up.

Thanisson. 

Hux rolled his eyes preemptively. Thanisson texting Hux on a Saturday afternoon could only mean one thing. 

“Hux, I’m sorry, but could you cover for me tonight? I’m really sick and I need someone to take my shift, or Ren is going to kill me. Please? I’ll owe you one.”

Hux sighed heavily. So much for relaxing. 

Hux was the morning manager at the Outer Rim Coffeehouse, and he had already worked from 5AM until 1PM this morning, his usual shift. Now it looked like he would also be working from 5PM until 1AM.

Hux reached back and gave Millicent a pet. He had so looked forward to spending the evening together, just the two of them. He could easily tell Thanisson that he was busy, and the unfortunate little fucker would be none the wiser. Was Thanisson even really sick? Or was it just a story?

Unprofessional is what is was. Hux had very little sympathy for anyone who called in at the last minute. Hux himself would never call in sick. Even if he was dead, he would still find a way to make it in to work. He would defy the very laws of nature if they stood between him and his misplaced sense of responsibility.

Then again, the night shift meant Hux would get to work with Ren, the night manager. Since Hux and Ren worked opposite shifts, they rarely worked together. 

Hux wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Ren, even though they had known each other for almost two years. “Mercurial” was the word that Hux would choose to describe him. Most people found Ren to be intimidating, off-putting. But Hux was not most people. Hux rather enjoyed the way that Ren stood up to him. No one else at the coffeehouse would ever dare cross Armitage Hux. 

The last time they worked together, Ren even had the gall to tell Hux that he, Ren, was the superior barista. The nerve! 

And so, Hux had issued a challenge.

Ren made Hux a latte, and Hux made Ren a latte. 

Hux insisted that his was better, the milk just a bit sweeter, the espresso just a tad more mellow, and as for the latte art, Hux had gone with simple but classic. 

A heart.

And Ren smiled when he saw it, Hux was sure of that, and Ren rarely smiled. 

Why had Hux decided on a heart? Instead of a rosette, or something more creative and fanciful, like a musical note, or a kitty cat, or the Death Star, all of which Hux could execute flawlessly? But no, for Ren he had chosen a heart. 

Why had Hux revealed his feelings in a flourish of steamed milk?

Because Ren was simply the most beautiful thing Hux had ever seen. 

Hux couldn’t help it! He had always had a weakness for tall, dark, and handsome straight boys, the more aloof and insolent the better. Ren’s large nose. Those huge, adorable ears that were always sticking out no matter how much Ren tried to hide them under that lush, dark hair of his. The sorrowful, haunted eyes. The uncertain mouth. 

Hux still remembered Ren taking that first sip, a bit of glossy foam on his upper lip, and the way his pink tongue licked it off. 

Ren had looked Hux in the eyes and said, in all seriousness, “This is okay. But mine’s better.” 

Hux had laughed out loud. Everyone knew that Hux was the best barista at the Outer Rim, probably in the whole city.

“Well, Thanisson, you are in luck,” Hux muttered. 

The thought of ogling Ren, that big, beautiful barista, for eight hours straight was starting to sound better and better. Ren at the espresso machine, his hands working deftly, Ren bending over, reaching into the fridge, pulling out a gallon of milk, those muscles on his arms flexing, those perfect pecs covered by a tight black t-shirt, not to mention that ass. The way he pushed his hair out of his eyes, his fingernails would be dirty, that boy never cleaned the coffee out from under his fingernails, unlike Hux, whose fingernails were pristine, thank you very much.

Getting called in to work on a Saturday night wasn’t all bad, Hux decided. 

Sorry, Millie. He gave her a quick kiss on the head.

“That’s fine,” he texted back. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

** 

Hux tied on his black apron and thoroughly washed his hands. He stepped behind the counter. 

He was in his element. 

Hux took a moment to survey his domain.

The coffeehouse was different at night. The lighting, the crowd, the music. Hux preferred jazz in the morning. Ren was playing classic British punk tonight. Now Hux enjoyed The Clash as much as the next person, but the volume was a bit loud for Hux’s taste. Nonetheless, Hux couldn’t fault the choice. 

Ren was at the espresso machine, his back to Hux. Hux was taller than most, but Ren was even taller than Hux. And not just tall, Ren was large. He hulked over the espresso machine. Everything looked so small next to Ren. The dainty porcelain espresso cups looked like children’s toys. One wrong move, and Hux could imagine Ren just snapping off the steaming wand in his massive hand. 

Yet when it came to making coffee, Ren was graceful. He looked natural, like he was born grinding beans, tamping espresso grounds, steaming milk. Somehow, Ren and coffee just looked right together.

They were both bitter, dark, and oh so delicious. 

Mitaka was at the register, writing down orders, taking money, and swiping credit cards. He grabbed brownies, toasted bagels, and cut slices of cake. He was good with the customers, and usually managed to keep a sense of humor, even when things were a total clusterfuck. 

“Good evening, Ren,” said Hux, his voice crisp and clear. “How can I be of service?”

Ren ignored him. Hux furrowed his brows, taking a moment to gaze pensively at Ren’s muscular back. Perhaps Ren didn’t hear him over the music. 

“Mitaka,” Hux said, brushing a strand of red hair out of his eyes (he knew he should have given it another coating of hairspray). “How are you this evening?”

“Hi Hux,” Mitaka said brightly. “Do you want to reach your hand into my apron pocket?”

“I want nothing to do with your apron, Mitaka, until you start washing it regularly. Do you recall the conversation that we had Wednesday morning?”

“Yeah. I need to wear a freshly laundered apron every day.”

Mitaka glanced down sheepishly at his stained, crusty apron.

“Sorry, Hux. My uh, washing machine uh, exploded! It gave me a concussion. There’s a bump on my head. Do you want to feel it?”

“Not until you start washing your hair more than once a week. But it isn’t me you answer to tonight. I’m merely filling in for Thanisson.”

During this inane convo, Hux made a quick sweep of the coffeehouse and was, frankly, horrified by what he saw. 

With a huff, he swept into the dining room, gathering dirty dishes, wiping up spills, throwing away used to go cups and crumpled napkins, pushing in chairs, and hauling the overflowing bus tub back behind the counter to the dishwasher. 

“The floor was a disaster,” Hux scolded. “Mitaka, you’re better than this.”

“Oh, uh, right,” Mitaka said, looking awkwardly at Ren. Ren shrugged and turned back to the espresso machine. He hadn’t said a word or even bothered to look at Hux since he had arrived. Hux felt a little annoyed, but more than that he felt hurt. And the fact that he felt hurt was also annoying. He sighed impatiently. 

“Just don’t let it happen again,” said Hux.

“Yeah, I was about to get those dishes,” said Mitaka. “You know me, they call me Mr. Clean! Except I’m not bald. I’m like Mr. Clean’s little brother. Say, Hux, do you think Mr. Clean is hot? Is there porn about Mr. Clean?”

“Less talking, more working, please,” said Hux. 

Mitaka enjoyed chatting, but he was usually a hard worker. What was going on? Hux never had this problem with Mitaka when he worked the morning shift. Perhaps it was because Ren was making zero effort when it came to keeping his employees in line. 

Hux didn’t expect Ren to kiss his ass, but a simple “Hello, Hux,” or a “Thanks for helping out,” would have been much appreciated. They weren’t the best of friends, but Hux had assumed that Ren was at least mildly fond of him. 

Wasn’t he?

What had crawled up Ren’s butt and died?

As much as Hux wanted to find out, he simply didn’t have time. There was a coffeehouse to run, and Hux had given Ren a chance. If he wasn’t going to take responsibility for his shift, so be it.

“Ren,” Hux said, his voice commanding, “I’m going to have Mitaka run to the basement to restock. I’ll take care of cleaning the glass and checking the bathrooms. You clean up back here. How are Saturday nights, typically? Do you anticipate that we will need extra milk?”

Hux eyed the supplies worriedly. It seemed that Ren had not restocked since he came on his shift. Did Ren even care that if it got busy tonight they would be totally fucked?

Finally, Ren turned around and condescended to look at Hux. He wore a tight black t-shirt and jeans, the same thing he wore every day. Hux always found Ren’s armpits to be distracting. They were always a bit damp. Hux briefly imagined shoving his nose into Ren’s warm armpit, inhaling his musky scent… Did Hux like armpits, or did he just like Ren’s armpits? He wouldn’t mind licking them, giving them a little nibble, just to see how they tasted.

“Hux,” Ren said. “Thanks for leaving the register empty. You know the bank is closed on Saturday, right? You know it’s your job to go to the bank on Friday morning so that we’re not fucked for the rest of the weekend, right? Oh well, you don’t work on Saturday nights. What do you care if we’re fucked?”

Hux was shocked. He always went to the bank on Friday morning! And he always made sure there was plenty of change to last through the weekend.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ren. Or course I went to the bank. If you were out of money, then Snoke must have made a trip to Costco. It was fine when I left this afternoon.”

“Wow. Okay, sure. Maybe Snoke took all the money because nothing is ever your fault, and you never do anything wrong. Great. Thank you for letting me know, Hux.”

What the fuck? Ren’s face was pale with rage. It seemed as if he were fighting to control strong emotions, like there was something violent and nasty seething under the surface.

Hux was pissed off, but this wasn’t going to work. It was Ren’s shift, and Hux wasn’t going to argue with him, not in front of customers. He still had eight hours to get through with this arrogant oaf. He had no choice. He had to smooth it over.

“Very well, Ren, I’m sorry. I take full responsibility. Now, what can I do to help you?”

Ren blinked and made a huffing sound. Clearly Ren was surprised by Hux’s response. Ren was not good at hiding his feelings, and Hux planned to use this to his advantage tonight. He would manipulate Ren by any means necessary. He would not let Mitaka or any of the patrons of the Outer Rim see Ren make a fool out of him. 

“I don’t care what you do,” said Ren. “You’re the morning manager. I’m sure you can figure it out. I’m not going to boss you around. Go jack off in the back room like you usually do. I don’t give a shit.”

“Ren,” said Hux, and now his heart was pounding. He didn’t want to be angry and hurt by Ren’s words, he wanted to avoid that at all costs, and yet… 

Hux tried his best to keep his voice calm.

“If you are upset with me for some reason, I need you to tell me why. Otherwise, it’s going to be a long night.”

Ren sighed impotently. He seemed on the verge of saying something. He clenched his fists. Unclenched them. His eyes looked sad, tortured even. If Ren wasn’t being such a dick, Hux would have felt sorry for him. Ren’s face softened.

“I’ll make us smoothies,” said Ren, in all seriousness.

Hux arched a brow. 

“You... do that,” he said.

Smoothies? But the shop was a disaster! The panini grill was disgusting, not to mention meat and cheese needed to be sliced and restocked. The espresso machine was a disgrace. With just a quick glance Hux could see about twenty tasks that needed doing that were more important than making smoothies!

Without another word, Ren stomped over to the smoothie machine and started blending up a storm. He turned the dial on the wall that adjusted the music, and cranked up the Clash even louder. Once again, Hux enjoyed the Clash, but not at top volume when he was trying to work.

But this wasn’t his shift, Hux reminded himself.

He wasn’t in charge, for once.

He would do his job and go home. 

And let Ren deal with the consequences. 

**

“Here we go,” said Ren, taking a big sip of his smoothie, and handing Hux and Mitaka theirs. Hux did not particularly care for smoothies: too cold, too sweet. Nonetheless, Hux would accept the smoothie as a peace offering, of sorts.

“I’m making the drinks,” said Ren. “Mitaka’s running the register. Do not step away from the register for any reason, unless I tell you too. If you so much as think about getting in my way, you’re dead. Just keep the orders coming, and don’t slow down because you think I can’t keep up. And if one of the little shits tries to order an Italian soda with every flavor of syrup in it, you tell them to go fuck themselves.”

“I’ll uh--do that!” said Mitaka.

“And you,” said Ren, glancing at Hux, his eyes dark, thunder in his voice, “follow my lead.”

“Understood,” Hux said primly, rolling up the sleeves of his perfectly pressed black and white checked button down shirt. He straightened his apron, and stood at high alert, ready to spring into action. He glanced at himself in the mirror along the back wall. “Ah, good,” he thought. Not a hair out of place. His face was calm, his gaze steady. 

“Who is this crowd?” he asked. “Is there anything I should know? Anything I can do to prepare?”

Ren’s response was a nasty laugh; it was strained, a hateful sound, the bitter laugh of a condemned criminal. 

“There’s nothing any of us can fucking do.”

**

“They’re homeschoolers,” said Mitaka, and he sounded like he was about to cry. “They come every third Saturday.”

And before Hux had a chance to ask any more questions, the first wave of homeschoolers hit. Teenagers and their moms began to pour in the front door, some were even coming in the side door, which was supposed to be an exit only. Several of the kids darted into the back room, and Hux was certain he heard the sound of at least one bolting down the basement stairs. He blinked. What was happening?

“Employees only!” he shouted to the two in the back room. He threw open the basement door and shouted into the darkness. “Employees only!” 

The two from the back and the one in the basement all put on their most innocent faces and sauntered passed Hux. “Sorry,” said a girl wearing bell bottoms, but as soon as she had her back to Hux she burst out laughing, so clearly she wasn’t too sorry. 

“Hey,” said a boy wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, “you look exactly like that one lady. You know, the one who plays the White Witch in the Narnia movies.”

“Who?” thought Hux. However, he did not condescend to answer the insolent child. 

Meanwhile, as Hux was chasing kids out of places where they were not supposed to be, Mitaka had acquired a massive line up front, Ren was making a shitload of drinks, and multiple tickets were lined up on the cutting board.

“Here, Hux! One more cheese panini!” said Mitaka, throwing another ticket at him. 

“Panino!” Hux shouted back.

Panini was the plural of panino! The fact that everyone called one sandwich a panini annoyed Hux to no end. But what really killed Hux was when someone said something like “I’d like to order two paninis.” That was redundant! Panini was already plural! Anyway...

It seemed like every one of these damn kids also wanted a chocolate shake with their cheese panino, so Ren was scooping ice cream like crazy, and Hux was grilling his head off. Of course their blender was cheap and tiny so Ren could only make one shake at a time. 

“We’re a coffeehouse, not a sandwich shop!” Hux thought to himself desperately. “This isn’t Subway! I’m a barista, not a sandwich artist!”

Although Ren and Hux were miserable, Mitaka really had the worst of it because he actually had to talk to people. The moms were indifferent, and the kids were fucking weird. 

“Hey, White Witch!” Led Zeppelin kid shouted over the counter at Hux, “Make sure my panini has extra cheese!”

“It’s panino!” Hux shouted back. 

Hux had just answered to White Witch. He had never hated himself more. He would never, ever spit in a customer’s food, but just for a moment, he allowed himself to fantasize.

The kids were running wild, and the moms clearly didn’t give a fuck. The next two hours were a blur. It was anarchy. Several of the kids, including the girl wearing the bell bottoms, were under one of the tables and they kept shouting things like “Disarm the bomb!” and humming the Mission Impossible music. What the actual fuck was happening right now? Hux was sweating. his hair was falling into his eyes, he was up to his elbows in grease, and he smelled like a giant grilled cheese sandwich. 

As things finally started to quiet down, and the kids and moms began to straggle out of the coffeehouse in clumps, leaving their trash and dirty dishes behind, Hux took a sip of his neglected, melted smoothie. It tasted weird, but it wasn’t terrible, and Hux was parched so he chugged it. 

Now they were out of everything, and the coffeehouse was trashed. But still, they were alive, and that was something. 

Mitaka looked strung out. He stood at the register in a daze, staring at nothing; his eyes were haunted, hollow. Hux was reminded of Apocalypse Now. The horror… the horror… And Ren, his black shirt was covered in ice cream. There was ice cream in his hair, smeared on his face. He was nearly shaking with rage.

“I fucking hate ice cream,” he said.

And Ren grabbed a bottle from under the counter, dumped something in his smoothie, and then took a long pull. 

“That’s better,” he muttered darkly. 

Hux’s breath caught in his throat. What was in that bottle? Hux had never seen that bottle before, and he knew every single bottle in this coffeehouse like the back of his hand.

“Surely not,” Hux breathed. And he took a final sip of his smoothie. 

He knew it tasted strange! There was a bit of a burn. Not to mention Hux’s limbs felt loose, his mind just a little fuzzy…

Holy fuck! They could all get fired for this!

“I’m drunk on the job!” Hux said, or did he just think it? “Did I just say that?” he said.

“Yeah, you said it. And so am I,” said Mitaka wearily. 

Hux marched over and grabbed the unmarked bottle of clear liquid from under the counter, unscrewed the cap, and smelled. It didn’t have a smell. So he tasted it. Vodka! Of course. He knew it. 

He replaced the cap and threw the bottle in the trash. Normally, he would have emptied it, rinsed it, and recycled it, but goddammit he was pissed off!

He marched to the back room where they kept the slicer, the fridge full of meat and cheese, and boxes stacked to the ceiling of all the other dried goods. He felt his blood boiling. Ren was unbelievable! And he was a manager. A manager!

“Ren!” barked Hux, “Come back here!”

“No!” Ren shouted from somewhere up front.

“I need you to help me reach a box! I can’t reach it!”

Ren appeared, and Hux rounded on him.

“You don’t need me,” Ren scoffed. “You can reach all of the boxes.”

Hux scowled.

“There was vodka in the smoothies,” he hissed. “I think I’m… tipsy, Ren! I assumed you were unprofessional, but this goes well beyond any of my previous assumptions. I should report you to Snoke right now.”

“Chill out, Hux. Sorry, I didn’t realize you had a fucking stick up your ass. Now I know, god.”

“Excuse me,” said Hux. “I could have ignored Thanisson’s text, but I chose to come because, one: I take my job seriously, and two: I wanted to help you!”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly not,” said Hux. “I don’t know why I bothered. You couldn’t even say thank you when I showed up on my night off to save your sorry excuse for a posterior.”

“I wasn’t the one who texted you,” countered Ren. “Mitaka and I would have been fine.” 

“You are unbelievable! And exactly how would you have made shakes and sandwiches at the same time? We barely got through the rush with the three of us!”

Hux tried to storm off, but Ren wouldn’t budge and he was blocking the only exit. 

“Move,” said Hux, shoulder checking Ren to no avail. Ren was like a mighty oak tree, firmly rooted in place.

“You are such a snob,” Ren spat. “I thought you would get a kick out of my Saturday night tradition. I’ll never include you in anything fun again. And next time someone calls in during a night shift? Don’t bother. I’ll handle it.”

“But you can’t drink on the job!” said Hux, nonplussed. “It’s unprofessional! You could get us all fired! What kind of example are you setting as a manager?”

“The same kind of example that Snoke is setting. Trust me, he doesn’t give a shit. Sometimes I play music with him down in the basement before work. He’s high as fuck, man. What do you think he’s doing down there in his office all night while we’re up here busting our asses?”

Hux was shocked. Then again, Snoke did have a peculiar odor. Then again, Hux had always assumed it was cheap cologne. 

“Ren, please move,” Hux sighed. “We can’t leave Mitaka up front alone for the rest of the night. 

Ren huffed and stepped aside.

**

Thankfully when they emerged from the back room it was not busy. The homeschool crowd was on their last legs. There were a few random people hanging around who seemed to know and like Mitaka. They must have been Saturday night regulars. Ren nodded at them all, and made them their usual drinks. They were very different from all the morning regulars who knew and loved Hux. Some of his regulars grabbed their coffee at the Outer Rim every morning with a predictability that Hux found comforting.

“Hey, Hux,” said Mitaka, who was more than a little tipsy, “what were you guys doing back there? Making out?” 

“You handled the rush well,” said Hux, pretending that Mitaka hadn’t just said the words “making out.”

“Take a fifteen minute break. You’ve earned it. Ren and I will clean up.”

“It’s fine. I’ll take care of it.” said Ren. “Go home, Hux. We don’t need you.”

“You want to work harder just so you can get rid of me?” said Hux. “That doesn’t sound like you. I’m assuming you’ll just loaf around after I leave and make Mitaka do all the work.”

“Fuck you,” said Ren. “I do my job.”

“Wow,” said Mitaka, laughing awkwardly. “I feel like I’m a little kid and my parents are fighting! Uh, mom, dad, I, uh, don’t want you to get divorced. I’ll be traumatized! I’ll think love is dead and I’ll never be able to have a healthy relationship, and I’ll take it out on my future kids!”

“Shut up and go one break,” said Ren.

“Okay,” said Mitaka. “Hey dad, if I go sit down and shut up will you make me a drink?”

“Yeah,” said Ren.

“Excuse me?” said Hux. “Why is he the dad?”

**

The rest of the night continued mostly without incident. Mitaka enjoyed his break and the eight shot breve that Ren made for him. Ren and Hux worked mostly in silence for the rest of the night, but Mitaka more than made up for it because after eight shots of espresso he was bouncing off the goddamn walls.

At one point a local weirdo known as Teedo tried to run off with the tip jar, but Ren leaped over the counter--yes, he literally leaped over the counter in one graceful jump and looked like either an action hero or a majestic gazelle--wrestled the tip jar out of Teedo’s hands, and threw him out the door. Hux had to admit that the jump was impressive. 

Furthermore, Ren once again proved that he was a true artist at the espresso machine, despite his inability to keep it even remotely clean. When customers ordered simple, classic drinks, like shots of espresso or lattes, that was when Ren really shined. The shot was tamped and extracted beautifully, the crema a gorgeous caramel color that made Hux want to weep with joy. The milk glistened on top of the perfectly crafted latte as Ren executed a flawless, elegant rosette with his large, rough hand.

At midnight Ren sent Mitaka home due to him having an upset stomach (perhaps it had something to with the ill advised decision to drink an alcoholic smoothie followed by eight shots of espresso and half-and-half?). It would be up to the two managers to spend the next hour cleaning the espresso machine and coffee pots, the blender and the grill, slicing meat and cheese for the next morning, restocking, sweeping, mopping, vacuuming and doing the other umpteen backbreaking chores involved in closing down a coffeehouse.

Once Ren had ushered out the final customers and locked the door, the owner, Snoke, emerged from his basement office in a cloud of pot smoke. 

Definitely not cheap cologne, thought Hux, although there might be some of that too. Definitely weed. 

Snoke’s eyes were bloodshot, and he wore his usual uniform which consisted of a bathrobe over a t-shirt, sweatpants, and old sneakers. 

“Hello gentlemen,” said Snoke. “How’s business?”

“Business is excellent,” said Hux. 

“Yeah,” said Ren. “Teedo tried to steal the tip jar again. You know, a normal Saturday night.”

Snoke laughed. “Ren, make me my usual before you clean the espresso machine.”

Ren went right to work, grinding the beans, tamping down the delicately fragrant grounds with just the right amount of pressure, effortlessly timing the extraction of the shot so that the color and taste of the espresso in the delicate white ceramic cup was beyond reproach. Ren handed the double shot of espresso to Snoke. 

“Hux,” said Snoke, “Have you ever tasted this boy’s espresso?” Snoke gazed at Ren appreciatively, his bloodshot eyes watery with pride and fondness. “He’s the only one who knows how to make that old espresso machine sing.”

“Indeed, Ren makes excellent drinks, sir,” Hux said, bristling. 

Hux couldn’t help but feel hurt. His drinks were as good as Ren’s (actually better), and, in addition, unlike Ren, Hux did all the other parts of this bloody job that were less than glamorous, all the cleaning, the restocking, the drudgery. Hux had given his soul to the Outer Rim Coffeehouse. He worked his ass off, starting every morning at 5AM, and he rarely got a word of thanks. 

Hux watched in annoyance as Snoke held the delicate cup in his large hand. He inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma, and then took a sip. He groaned with pleasure. It was almost obscene really, Hux thought, rolling his eyes. Snoke took another sip and looked like he was going to jizz in his sweatpants. 

“Delicious,” he said. “Well done, my good and faithful barista.”

Snoke crossed to the cash register, and as he passed by Ren he pulled something out of his robe pocket and pressed it into Ren’s hand. It looked like a small plastic bag. Snoke smiled indulgently. 

“A token of my appreciation. I think you’ll enjoy this batch. It is particularly potent.”

“Thank you,” said Ren humbly, lowering his head, pocketing the small bag.

Hux could feel his posture becoming ramrod straight, his face hardening into a composed, disdainful mask. Snoke had never given Hux such a fond look, let alone a gift of any kind, let alone a bag of fucking weed!

Snoke opened the register, counted it down, and put the profits in his bank bag. He ran the credit card report, and sorted the credit card slips, humming a jazzy tune to himself. Ren was cleaning the espresso machine, and Hux had assigned himself the shitty task of using the wire brush to scrub grime and grease off the grill. He was bleaching the cutting board when Snoke shuffled off back to the basement with his bank bag. He handed his used espresso cup to Hux as he passed him. 

“Don’t forget to wash this,” he said yawning loudly, not even bothering to look at Hux as he passed. “It’s my favorite cup.”

“Of course,” Hux said, his voice clipped. “Have a good night, sir.”

Snoke waved his hand and disappeared down the basement stairs.

Hux began cleaning with a vengeance. He stormed into the back room to wipe down the disgusting meat slicer. Of course no one ever bothered to clean it during their shift except for Hux. It clearly hadn’t been cleaned since Hux himself had cleaned it this morning. Hux unscrewed the two side pieces and took it apart, fuming all the while. 

So this is how Ren ran his shift. And to think that Hux had respected Ren, even considered him a friend. To think that he had found Ren to be…. what? Charming? Attractive? To think that this big, lazy, belligerent, pot smoking, vodka drinking moron made Hux’s heart beat faster whenever he saw him. To think that Ren made Hux doubt himself, made Hux question what he was thinking and feeling. Why did Ren have this power over him? What did it even mean, and how could Hux make it go away? As Hux was thinking all of these thoughts and more and not really paying attention to what he was doing, his hand slipped, and he cut it on the sharp circular blade. 

“Fuck!” he shouted, grabbing his hand, blood seeping through his fingers. 

“Fuck!” he shouted again, tears stinging his eyes. He grabbed the first gross towel he saw and pressed it to his hand, furious. Ren ran into the back room.

“What the hell did you do, Hux?”

“What does it look like?” Hux spat. “The slicer was a disaster because of course no one on the night shift ever cleans it, and I cut myself!”

“Shit,” said Ren. “Is it bad? Let me see.”

“It’s fine,” said Hux. “Don’t touch me.”

But Ren had grabbed the first aid kit from under the counter and was advancing toward Hux.

“I said don’t touch me!” said Hux, his voice sounding unhinged even in his own ears. He was vaguely aware that he was losing control but found he really didn’t care. He never lost control. Why wasn’t he allowed to lose control, just once? Well, why not?

“Give me your hand,” said Ren, his voice calm and detached, a tone of voice that Hux found infuriating at this particular moment. “Let me see it. We need to wash it off.”

“No!” said Hux, and he shoved Ren hard with his good hand, the nasty, bloody towel falling to the ground. 

“What the fuck?” said Ren, his eyes flashing. “You’re getting blood everywhere, you idiot!” He grabbed Hux’s wrist with his giant hand, and of course his grip was like a fucking vice.

“No!” said Hux. “I mean it, Ren!”

“No! I mean it! You need to wash your hand off!”

Hux tried to wrench his arm out of Ren’s grasp to no avail. It just caused Ren to clamp down even harder. Ren started dragging Hux toward the front, to the sink, but Hux dug in his heels, resisting Ren’s pull, flailing wildly.

“Let me go! I’ll wash it myself!”

“No!”

Hux flung himself to the side and into a pile of boxes, causing them to come tumbling down on top of them. Ren yanked again and Hux lost his footing, flying forward and landing on his face. He howled in fury and pulled down as hard as he could, yanking Ren down on top of him. 

“Ow! You stupid fuck!” said Ren.

“No!” said Hux. “You’re the fuck!”

“Goddammit!” said Ren as they wrestled like idiots on the floor of the back room amid boxes spilling out to go cups and lids, Hux’s hand bleeding all the while. 

Hux grabbed the collar of Ren’s black t-shirt and dug his fingers in, pulling as hard as he could. He heard a satisfying rip. Hux may or may not have been laughing like a maniac.

“This is my favorite t-shirt!” said Ren, his face contorted with fury. 

He lurched to his feet, and impotently kicked a plastic bag full of styrofoam cups. 

“Well just stay in here and bleed to death then! And don’t look at me if you need someone to drive you to the emergency room. I guess you’ll just have to call your girlfriend for that!”

Ren said the word “girlfriend” with particular venom, and as he said it he punched the brick wall for emphasis. 

“Ow!” Ren shrieked. “My hand! Look what you made me do! Fuck!”

Hux staggered to his feet, clutching his own injured hand to his chest. His mouth hung open. His fury had abruptly been replaced by confusion.

“My girlfriend?” Hux sputtered. 

“Yeah,” said Ren through gritted teeth, his face contorted with agony, clutching his own injured hand to his chest. “I know you think I’m an idiot, but how dumb do you really think I am? The blond girl. The one who’s as tall as I am. Pretty sure you know who I mean.”

Tears were streaming down Ren’s face now and it looked like he was trying to shove his hand into his mouth. “Ow! I think I broke my hand! Fuck!”

“Phasma?” said Hux in disbelief. 

“Oh is that her name? I wouldn’t know because you never even bothered introducing her to me last Saturday night when you came in during my shift, and I poured your coffee and watched you share a piece of fucking strawberry cake.”

Hux was so confused, he couldn’t even begin to string together a coherent sentence. He barked out a strange, awkward laugh.

“I’ve known Phasma since we were children. Ren,” he said, trying very hard to make sure whatever he was saying came out in basic English word order. “You do realize I’m gay? You’ve heard of gay people before? When I say gay you know I’m not talking about happy and jolly, don’t you?”

“What?” said Ren. “You are? Then why didn’t you tell me?”

Hux blinked. 

“Look at me,” said Hux. “I didn’t want to insult your intelligence. I’ve been told I’m the walking definition of gay. I thought it was obvious!”

“Well it’s not!” said Ren, his eyes stinging. He angrily swiped at them with his good hand. “I thought I was… I thought I was the only one. I thought if you knew about me, you’d be disgusted.”

“What?” Now Hux was truly shocked.

“Shut up!” said Ren. “Never mind.”

“You’re gay?” said Hux.

“I don’t know! I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ren, I…” Hux didn’t know what to say. Ren was still grimacing and clutching at his hand. 

“Let me see your hand. Can you bend your fingers? I doubt that it’s broken. Here, let me see--”

“You’re the one who’s bleeding!” said Ren.

Ren snatched Hux’s injured hand and peered at it.

“Let’s wash it off first.” He led Hux to the sink and turned on the cold water. He rinsed it off and took a good look at it. 

“It probably needs stitches,” he muttered. 

“I can’t afford to go to the emergency room,” said Hux, dismayed.

“I know. I think I can glue it together. Let me try.”

It took both of their good hands to open the first aid kit and get the lid off of the Liquid Bandage. Ren was still holding his injured hand against his chest and Hux had his injured hand wrapped in a clean towel. Ren carefully applied the Liquid Bandage to the deep cut across Hux’s palm, and then meticulously taped a sterile gauze pad over it, which proved difficult with only one hand. 

“Thank you, Ren,” said Hux. 

Hux had been watching Ren as he tended to Hux’s hand. Ren had been careful, so very gentle, his eyes looked concerned, almost sorrowful. He had touched Hux like he was a precious, delicate thing. Hux felt lightheaded. Whether it was because of blood loss or because of all these intense, baffling feelings he was experiencing, he didn’t know.

Where had his anger gone? 

And what had replaced his anger? 

The way Ren had touched him, just now, it had been so tender, so sweet. Hux’s heart was pounding. Their were butterflies in his stomach, a lump in his throat. 

“Let me see your hand, Ren.” His voice was husky.

He tentatively touched Ren’s hand. The knuckles were swollen. He carefully flexed each of Ren’s fingers in turn. Ren grimaced but didn’t cry out.

“It hurts,” Ren said. “But I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not sure what else we can do. I’ll get you some ice for it when we finish up here. Well, there might be one more thing we can do…”

“What?”

Hux slowly, reverently, kissed Ren’s hand, one kiss on each of Ren’s swollen knuckles.

“Did that help?” asked Hux.

Ren’s eyes were shining. His lips looked so full and soft. “Yeah, it did. It feels a little better already.”

Ren’s voice was trembling.

“Good,” said Hux. 

God, thought Hux, those lips. Hux had always noticed that Ren had beautiful lips. How could anyone look at Ren and not think about what it would be like to kiss those perfect lips? They were simply made to be kissed, again and again. 

Hux leaned in and kissed him. Ren just sort of sat there and let Hux do whatever. His mouth didn’t move so much as it just hung open in shock. 

“Wow,” said Ren. His eyes were wide. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were interested?” Hux asked. “I’ve been interested in you since the first time I saw you. Do you remember that day?”

“Of course I remember. It was my first day here. It’ll be two years in November.”

“You made Mitaka cry,” said Hux, fondly. “You made him so nervous that he burned the milk and then--”

Ren finished the sentence “Poured it all over his crotch.”

“That was hilarious,” they said in unison. 

They were smiling at each other like goofy idiots.

“We have two good hands between us,” said Hux. “Shall we finish closing down the shop?” 

“I’ll help you if you help me.”

“Very well,” said Hux, “but only if you let me buy you a drink when we’ve finished.”

“Where?” said Ren. “It’s one in the morning.”

“You’ve never been to Bantha Beach?” said Hux, appalled. “It’s open until three. When all the bars close at one, all the worst, drunkest, most desperate scum and riffraff turn up there. It’s perfect for us.”

Ren nodded, smiled. 

“Afterward,” said Hux carefully, “you could stay over at my place, if you like. It would make me feel better if I could keep an eye on your hand. Just in case it’s broken. I’ve got plenty of ice.”

“Okay,” said Ren. “And if yours starts bleeding again, I’ll take you to the emergency room. Someone will need to drive you, since you don’t have a girlfriend.”

Hux started laughing. “Really? Phasma? You know that is just wrong. On so many levels.”

“I know,” said Ren. “But Hux...”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know.”

Ren wrapped his good hand around the back of Hux’s head and pulled him close, their lips coming together hard. Ren nibbled on Hux’s plump lower lip and then sucked on it. Hux moaned and began lightly biting Ren’s jawline, tasting his salty skin. He licked Ren’s lovely neck, and then bit that delicious spot where Ren’s neck and shoulder came together. Was there a name for that spot, thought Hux, that sweet spot? It should have a name.

Hux pulled back, laughing, before he got carried away. 

“What?” said Ren. “You mean you don’t want to--”

“To fuck behind the counter at the Outer Rim Coffeehouse? No. Well actually, yes, I do, but no, I don’t.”

“I know what you mean,” said Ren. “I think about fucking here all the time. Probably because I’m here all the time, but still.”

“Yes,” said Hux, “So many options. On top of the counter. Behind the counter. On that table, against the front windows. On top of the Ms Pac-Man game…" 

“Anyway,” Hux was starting to give himself a real boner, “let’s clean up, so we can get out of here.”

**

Sweeping, mopping, and vacuuming with only two good hands between them was an interesting experience. Finally, all the lights were off, and Ren locked the door with a satisfying turn of his key. 

The night was warm but there was a cool breeze.

It was a perfect night. 

Ren shivered, and Hux lightly touched his back. 

“What’s wrong?” said Hux.

“Nothing,” said Ren. “Okay, I guess I’m nervous. I mean, is this a date? I feel like this is now officially a date, and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“We’ll walk to the bar. I’ll buy you a drink. We’ll talk. I would suggest that we talk about anything but work.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound too hard.”

Ren started walking and Hux kept up. It felt good, walking side by side with Ren in the middle of the night.

“Hux, this is going to sound stupid. But I’m happy to be going on a date with you.”

Hux smiled.

“I’m happy too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it was a rough night at the coffeehouse, but I'm glad those two idiots finally stopped being well.... idiots! Maybe now they can live happily ever after although it is probably best if they work opposite shifts. Thanks for reading!


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